One half of my sons, all of my heart
by Laura Andrews
Summary: What did Lune think when Shasta showed up during the hunting party, warning them of an attack on Anvard? One shot.


Like a wraith, the lad had sprung up before Lune's astonished eyes: Corin, yet not Corin. Tanned more than Corin from Calormene sun, and with little trace of Corin's devil-may-care, free-born way about him; yet he was like enough to Corin at first glance that Lune, forgetting that his son was supposed to be far away in Tashbaan, had mistaken him for just a moment.

_If not Corin, then who?_

He must hear the whole tale when they reached Anvard. He watched as the boy swung himself into the saddle, and as he sat tall and straight without even reaching a hand for the reins. Lune's heart ached with longing, for just so would his Cor have been: quieter, steadier than Corin, a balance to the other's foolhardiness and trouble-mongering.

Aslan, was it possible? That his son had somehow survived the sea and been brought up in a remote part of Calormen, far from his native land, and made his way from Tashbaan across the desert … to Lune?

He knew he should be thinking of the defense of Anvard, but as he rode he puzzled it all out. His heart had shattered twelve years ago, and he had never recovered all the pieces of it. Corin was his pride and joy, and yet always, always, was the shadow of the son who should have been; the elder, the heir, the joy of his old age.

He glanced back; the boy had dropped behind the rest of the company, and, as Lune watched, he seemed to dissolve into the mist.

"Wind the horn!" Lune commanded.

It was winded, and as Lune cantered he watched for the lad to reappear. But he did not. Lune himself began to slow his pace.

"My lord!" Darrin called. "We must waste no time!"

"But the boy …"

Darrin glanced back. "Where is he?"

"He vanished. I must find him!" Lune turned his horse. The company halted, and Darrin rode up beside him and laid his hand on Lune's shoulder.

"Lord king," Darrin said in a low voice. "Whatever, whoever, you believe the boy to be, your first care is your kingdom. Haste is needed, or Rabadash will find your gates open and we will come home to death and destruction. The lad has done his errand and most likely has gone back to the hermit. You can seek him there after the battle."

"Wind the horn once more," Lune said, clenching his teeth, for he felt a sob building in his chest.

The notes of the horn faded away into the fog, and they waited for a moment, but nothing happened. Lune nodded to Darrin, not trusting himself to speak.

"Ride on!" Darrin cried.

/

When they had topped the ridge that overlooked Anvard, Lune breathed a great sigh of relief. The castle still stood. He was in time.

_Thanks to the boy. _

He closed his eyes for a moment. What a danger they had been saved from, just as the prophet had foretold twelve years ago. The deadliest danger in which they had ever been. Why had Cor fallen behind? For he was certain that it was Cor. Somehow he had managed to arrive at precisely the right moment, to save them all from disaster.

"Aslan," he whispered. "You would not take him from me again. You would not break my heart for my son again. He was real, I know that he was real and that I will see him again. How I long to fold him in my arms and give him all the love of twelve years lost. Bring him back to me, I beg you."

Ten minutes later, as they clattered into the castle courtyard, Darrin reined in beside the king. Stable boys ran out to take the horses.

"Sire," he said. "I see your mind is still with the boy. You must forget him for the present and set your mind to the defense of your people."

"I know it, I know it," Lune said. "Yet how can I forget him? My son? As my son he must be for there could not be a third such boy in all the world."

"Do not set your hope too high, lord," said Darrin. They began walking towards the keep as they spoke. "For have you considered that it may well be his highness the prince? If indeed he rode across the desert to bring us warning, his wits may have been addled by heat and exhaustion, and he looked ready to collapse."

"Nay, for he did not know me," Lune said. "And Edmund and Susan would never betray my trust so, to allow my son to do such a thing. Edmund is a wise and prudent man."

"Unless they were slain and the prince escaped alone," said Darrin, in a yet lower voice. "If the Queen Susan refused Rabadash, it is all too likely that he would do such a thing; the black-hearted tyrant. And now, with his wrath hot within him, he intends to take Archenland and then, through us, Narnia itself. What better time than now, when three quarters of Narnia's rulers are absent. The Queen Lucy is noble and courageous, but she is the youngest of the four and would seem an easy target to him."

"Enough, Darrin!" Lune held out his hand. "That boy was not Corin. I will not believe that Edmund and Susan are dead and that Corin came across the desert to warn me, and came straight to me, without knowing me and without the grief in his eyes of witnessing such a thing as you say may have happened. That lad is my son." He leaned against a door post and heaved a sob. "He is my lost Cor, and now he is lost again. Aslan be praised that my wife is not here to break her heart again."

/

Lune surveyed the battlefield. It was a great victory; few of either Archenland or Narnia had fallen, but a full three fifths of the Calormenes lay slain. Some few had fled, and the rest were prisoners.

"A glorious day, my lord," Darrin said, still breathing hard from his fight with Ilgamuth. "Now, where is Rabadash? I pray Aslan that he is not fled, for I …"

Lune turned to the place at the wall where he had last seen the Calormene prince, just as a great roar of breathless laughter went up. Rabadash, kicking, screaming insults, almost at the point of tears, was hung from the wall by his hauberk, as neatly as if a giant had placed him there.

Lune threw back his head and laughed at the sight; the laughter eased the battle tension in his chest.

"Father!"

He turned, quick as lightning, and there was Corin … Corin the rascal, the heart-scald, the …. but there beside him, being dragged along a bit bewildered, with a bloody hand and a dirty face, the other boy. How in Aslan's name?

His heart swelled with joy. He quickly scolded Corin, and then he threw all kingly decorum to the wind and flung his arms around Cor. He was warm and solid and real. Beyond all hope, his son had returned.

After a long moment, he let go of Cor, turned him around, and drew Corin beside him.

"See, my lords!" he cried, half laughing, half weeping. "Have any of you any doubt?"

There was a momentary pause, and then cheer after cheer swept through the assembled men. Edmund shouldered his way through the crowd.

"Your lost son, my lord?" he said. "By Aslan's mane … I feel myself slow-witted. I never guessed."

"Nay, Edmund," Lune said, keeping his hand firmly on Cor's shoulder. "You have not thought of him night and day as I have. Your mind was occupied with other matters."

"Your … your son?" Cor looked up at him, with a mingled hope and confusion.

"Aye, lad," Lune folded him in his arms again. "Stolen from me when you were not a month old. Come into the castle, thou and Corin both, and I will tell you all."


End file.
